


Forever Home

by bramble28



Series: Shelter Me [2]
Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff fluff and more fluff, M/M, RoMox - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bramble28/pseuds/bramble28
Summary: Jon and Shooter are on their way home to see Roman before the next tour. Jon isn't sure who needs the attention more - him or the kitten."The baby? Roman has it just as bad for the little pipsqueak."
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Roman Reigns
Series: Shelter Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827955
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Forever Home

**Author's Note:**

> The world needs more romox fluff. The world needs more romox plus a baby cat.

Mox has never really had any good defense when it comes to Roman. He’s a tough guy, all barbed wire and broken glass, mouthy to a fault, even when he’s dealing with his partner. He can dish out the bull to Roman but he almost always pays for it, either by Roman’s disapproval softening him up or other more interesting means. The fact that he even puts up with Jon and all his crazy ideas makes him all that more invested in getting home to Roman as fast as possible. 

Jon is sitting in one of those horrifically uncomfortable molded plastic airport chairs when one of his aforementioned crazy ideas starts meowing loudly on the chair next to him. He leans down until his face is level with the kitten in the carrier and shushes him. “Shooter, please,” he begs in the quietest, most soothing tone he can force his gravelly voice into. “We’ll be on the plane soon. Jus’ a little longer.” His phone alerts as he’s attempting to pacify the striped brown kitten through the side of the soft carrier. He can’t open the carrier door flap yet. The risk of the kitten escaping is too great. He’s a hellion in a charming disguise, exactly like his new father. The Mox side of Jon would rather die than admit he now _ needs _ this tiny beast in his life. 

Turning his attention to the phone Jon sees the message is from Roman. He opens it up, his hand still pressed against the cat carrier hoping it gives some comfort to the little creature. 

_ Got home a few hours ago. Groceries are here. Can’t wait to see you and the baby. _

The baby? Roman has it just as bad for the little pipsqueak, Jon thinks before sending a message back.

_ My son and I are hopefully getting on this plane soon _

Roman’s reply comes quickly.  _ See that you do. Stay safe. Love you both. _

Jon’s heart jumps excitedly in his chest at the warm words. He can hear them in his head, in Roman’s voice. Even though Roman barely got to spend a few days with the kitten before Jon took him on a plane for the first time to go on tour he was getting attached. They’ve been video calling nightly for the past couple of weeks. Roman knows exactly what Shooter is starting to mean to Jon. 

Mox would punch anyone else in the eye if they suspected the kitten provided stability and affection when he has to be alone so often. At least he would if they said anything about it. He’s not so dumb as to know anyone else with pets they cared for wouldn’t suspect as much. Roman is different. He can be as soft as he wants toward Jon, and toward Mox when he finds his way to the surface. 

_ Love you too, _ Jon types into his phone and hits send just as his flight is called for boarding. He grabs the handle for his suitcase and yanks it into an upright position on its wheels. They make a chill-inducing scraping sound on the floor while being dragged sideways. When that is situated he bends over and lifts the cat carrier shoulder strap into place before slowly and smoothly standing so the kitten has time to balance. 

Mox-Jon. 

Jon totes the carrier carefully through the boarding area, down the ramp, and onto the plane. He finds his seat in the front row and sets the weight down, again slowly, so Shooter can find his balance inside. Heaving the suitcase into the overhead compartment Jon sighs in relief. One step closer to home. He sits and places the carrier on his lap, not buckling in yet to make it easier when the person with the inside seat ticket arrives. Jon waits, but no one stops in front of him to ask to reach their seat. As the plane doors close he settles in a little and reaches for the buckles, pleased he has no seat-mate and can spread out a bit. 

After the customary pre-flight rituals they’re in the air and that much closer to home. Shooter is lying quietly in his carrier, snuggled in a blanket. When the light comes on telling him it’s safe to undo the seat belt Jon does so and shifts over to the window seat, placing the cat carrier on the aisle seat. Not minutes later he realizes his mistake. 

A flight attendant stops in front of Jon’s (Shooter’s) seat and asks if he would like something, but before he can answer a loud, attention-seeking, meow erupts from beside him. The attendant looks surprised but then gasps as she looks down. There’s a cute little face peering at her. Shooter meows again and she looks to Jon before asking kindly, “May I?”

“Sure,” Jon responds, his answer being nearly drowned out by another dramatic howl.

The flight attendant reaches down and places her hand next to the carrier. The kitten rubs his head vigorously into her open palm through the mesh. “What a sweetheart,” she gushes to the kitten. 

_ As if he needed the reinforcement _ , Jon thinks. Outside he maintains a politely neutral face, maybe even one corner of his mouth is ticked up. His expression changes to dismay when the kind woman goes back to her cart and steps away, resulting in Shooter desperately sounding his displeasure. The kitten’s outcry stops the woman in her steps and she backtracks. Jon is sure he’s about to be asked to keep the little rat quiet. He can feel his face warming, his cheeks probably pink. He glances back to see that most everyone else on the plane is looking their way in curiosity. Actually attempting to sink in his seat a little Jon apologizes and tries to quiet the kitten, who still hasn’t stopped yelling. The attendant isn’t having it though and she suggests maybe Jon’s travel partner would be happier if he opened the carrier a bit and pet him. To his surprise she isn’t mad at all, and he remembers that people travel with babies and pets all the time and this isn’t her first flight. 

Jon sighs and unzips just one side of the door flap. Shooter’s head pops out, purring loudly and scrubbing Jon’s hands with his jaw. The attendant smiles fully and asks again, “May I, please?”

She’s been so nice, he can’t see the harm, especially since she isn’t giving him a ration for the interruption. When Jon nods his head she swoops in and plucks the furry little creature from his carrier and clutches him to her chest. He trills and wiggles in her arms until his paws are situated on one of her shoulders so he can see everything around him. Shooter soaks in the pets and rubs his face into her hair, but he’s not satisfied. He’s greedy. He trills and meows through purring so loud Jon can still hear it from his seat. Several people are pointing and laughing, aweing and grinning at the tiny feline making a scene and putting on a show of kneading his paws in the air. 

Jon meanwhile has turned even more red-faced, pushing his mouth into the palm of his back-turned hand, fingers splayed back across his own cheek. This is how every work night is. The AEW roster spoils the kitten that he has to live with. They never put him down even though he tolerates his harness and leash well enough, they feed him scraps from catering, and Jon concedes they’ve spoiled Shooter so badly he needs to be the center of attention at all times. And now, now there is half a plane full of people just fawning over the megaphone that is his kitten. 

Jon considers how many years he has left until he can retire. Then he considers how many years his new charge is likely to live. He may never know peace again. Do these oval windows even open and if not how hard is it to open the emergency hatch and fling himself out?

He supposes the bright side is that no one has really noticed him to recognize who he is. 

***

The cab driver meets Jon and Shooter outside at the curb. Jon is thankful for the lower profile as he slinks (as much as one who “walks like a badass” can) out of the airport and into the waiting car. Shooter had thankfully calmed down part way through the flight and was quiet as they moved through the busy airport. 

The streets become more familiar as the drive goes by. Jon sends Roman a warning text.

_ Almost home. Prepare for incoming _

It’s most definitely a threat. He hasn’t seen Roman in weeks and his hands are itching to get hold of him. As if in concert with his mind his fingers drum against his knees. A return text arrives momentarily.

_ Thank God. Incoming? Is that a threat or a promise? _

Jon squints at his phone.  _ Smart ass.  _ He considers not answering before deciding that would be boring in the long run. His reply is simple, but proves he’s the annoying punk he thinks he is.

_ Both _

Mox.

The remainder of the ride seems like it takes hours but in reality is about ten minutes. Jon is so anxious to be home he scoops up Shooter in his carrier and nearly forgets to grab his suitcase from the trunk until he hears the driver pop it open from their seat. He drags the suitcase out, mindful of the paint, tips the driver and practically speed walks up the path. He doesn’t get a chance to even find out if he needs his keys as the doorknob is already turning by the time Jon gets to the door. It swings open to reveal Roman, and Jon feels every ounce of tension Shooter couldn’t help him out with for the past two weeks melt away.

“My boys!,” Roman exclaims, beaming, pulling Jon inside by the arm not holding the kitten. He rolls Jon’s suitcase into the foyer before closing the door. Once inside Jon stoops to gently place the cat carrier down. When he stands he finds himself being fully enveloped in strong arms, bearded kisses pressed to his jaw and then his mouth. Jon leans in further, deepening one of the mouth kisses, pressing his chest against Roman. His hands roam over sturdy shoulders and down an equally powerful back. Roman grasps at Jon’s rugged body in return. They fall back together against a wall and don’t separate again until they seriously need air.

Once Roman has had a temporary fill of Jon he kneels down and unzips the carrier, scooping Shooter out. He holds the kitten up at eye level, looking him over critically. “Looks like your dad took good care of you out there, huh? He feed you enough?”

Shooter looks Roman square in the face and meows loudly. Roman chuckles and brings the kitten into his chest. He snuggles him there as the kitten leans in to the warmth, his eyes half closed in bliss. Leaving Jon in the foyer Roman takes Shooter with him to the living room where he sits down on the couch, fussing over him. The kitten crawls up his chest to nuzzle Roman’s face. “Look at your ears. I think they’re bigger. And your face...you’re starting to look like a big boy now. A handsome one.” 

“God, Rome, please don’t encourage him,” Jon laments, taking a seat. “He gets nothing but attention all the time. When you stop he goes crazy!”

“Nonsense,” Roman chides, raising a brow at Jon. “He deserves all that attention for having to put up with you.”

“Disrespect. In my own home!” Jon complains to no one. The only two beings around to hear him are currently in their own little love fest.

“Shush your mouth. The baby will hear you,” Roman fires back. 

Jon makes a snarling noise at Roman before he gets up.

Mox. 

He kisses Roman on the forehead and Shooter on his fuzzy little shoulder before declaring he needs a shower and leaving the room.

Mox under the influence of Roman.

Mox under the influence of Shooter. 

Roman situates himself comfortably on the couch in a reclined position, the kitten contentedly curling up and continuing to purr. It’s been a long day, first traveling home himself, then running errands before his little family arrived, and Roman closes his eyes thinking a short nap wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

***

Jon’s relaxing shower lasts fifteen minutes. He’s situated himself under the hot water so it runs down the back of his head and over his shoulders, stiff from hotel beds and sitting in so many uncomfortable chairs. He’s breathing easy, eyes closed, when he hears a commotion from the living room. There’s a lot of rustling before the noise dies down.  _ And, did Roman actually just scream? _

Jon hastily steps out of the shower, shutting the water off and grabbing a towel. He throws the towel around his waist as he half runs toward the living room. When he gets there he skids to a halt on the wood floor, his feet still damp, as he takes in the sight before him.

His boyfriend is lying on the couch looking utterly panicked. Shooter is so tangled up in Roman’s long curly hair, in full disarray on a pillow behind his head, that he’s stopped fighting to escape and is just happily biting and pawing at the thick strands. The scene sends Jon into a laughing fit that has him doubling over. 

“I fell asleep for a minute and when I woke up this is what had happened!” Roman’s brow is scrunched, his eyes wide, his mouth dropped open in distress.

Jon can’t stop laughing long enough to help Roman get the kitten untangled just yet. “I told you! He’s a terror. Ya didn’t believe me.”

“Jon, get him out! I believe you! I swear!” Roman’s hands are up hovering around his head unsure where to start helping himself. Every time he gets close enough the kitten bats at his hand. Jon decides that if he wants to sleep wrapped up in warm arms tonight he had better start helping, though he can’t stop the puffs of laughter that escape as he starts to unwind Shooter from Roman’s locks. 

“Hold still you little shit,” Jon mumbles at the tiny beast playfully biting his hands.

“I started to wake up and I thought you were out of the shower already,” Roman explains as he tries to hold in laughter of his own now that he’s being rescued. “I thought maybe you’d come out and were playing with my hair, trying to massage my head or something until I woke up fully and realized I couldn’t get him out.”

Jon finally gets Shooter fully disengaged from Roman before he takes a step back. As soon as Jon and Roman lock eyes they break into hysterics. “You looked so ridiculous,” Jon wheezes out. “All freaked out. Did you actually scream?”

Mox.

“Yes,” Roman says between laughing jags. “I needed help! Are you making fun of me?” Feigned disapproval starts to spread across Romans features. He rumbles in annoyance rooted in amusement. All fun and games until someone messes with the hair.

Reigns.

Jon looks at Roman, eyes filled with mock innocence before breaking into laughter again, which feels so good. Being this comfortable feels good. Jon knows Roman will make him pay in all the best possible ways he can think of. Before he can get started Jon pulls Shooter in close and snuggles him, silently thanking him for being a brat but also the greatest distraction. He smooths out some of the sharp edges when Jon can’t do it all himself. 


End file.
